Shina Dark: Vivre! Vivre!
by Mestophilies
Summary: A SHINA DARK story. The addition of several OCs to the tale, as well as going deeper into the lives of various canon characters. Slight or even serious crossovers MAY occur, no guarantees though.


A Shina Dark story. Shina Dark is a must-read manga, and you'll only really understand this story if you've read at least the first chapter of it. The addition of an OC to the tale, as well as going deeper into the lives and backgrounds of various other characters which the manga focuses less on. This is going to be a slight retelling of the story, but hopefully one which will still seem okay to those people who have read a lot of the manga.

Disclaimer: I do not own Shina Dark or any of its respective characters.

Please, enjoy! :)

* * *

He choked, coughing warm, dark blood. His eyes widened in fearful anticipation. He knew what was going to happen; this was hardly the first time. The hand he held over his mouth was soon covered in the sticky liquid, as he wretched, his cries of pain smothered by sound of blood spattering onto the floor. He began to shudder, the shaking growing worse with each passing moment, until they shook the entirety of his slim frame, the tremors wracking his body going unnoticed as he continued to cough. Soon dark blood, saliva and tears covered the floor, the red spreading wider and wider till it surrounded him, like a small island surrounded from all sides by a red sea.

He stretched out an arm, propping himself up against the wall, his legs going weak from the pain, almost unable to support his feather-light weight. He gasped for breath as the blood subsided for a moment. His breathing was shallow, his face bathed in a cold sweat, pale as a ghost. He heard the door open behind him and he looked up. As he did so, nausea and illness gripped him, and he fell to his knees, the pain threatening to overwhelm him once more, fresh blood spilling from his mouth.

"…!"

Sabrina stood framed in the doorway, her dark eyes wide with shock at the sight before her, hand held over her mouth. He could not see her face, even if he was not wracked with such agony, the light behind her making it impossible to see her expression. He controlled himself long enough to rasp, "D…don't watch…"

He couldn't manage any more than that; the pain was overpowering his senses. As his vision blurred, he saw her quickly reach his side. Her lips were moving, but he could hear nothing, nothing but his own steadily weakening pulse. Numbness seemed to spread across his whole body, starting from the tips of his fingers and toes, till it enveloped him entirely. All he could feel was that continuous thump-thump of his heart. Everything seemed to be growing dark, the lights dimming, the room becoming less defined. The last thing he saw before he fell to the floor was Sabrina, terrified and anxious, calling his name.

* * *

"It happens every time," Chris said grumpily, the next morning, as he sat at the wooden kitchen table, slowly sipping at a steaming mug of tea. It was the most his still aching body could handle at the moment. Each time he took too deep a breath or moved too quickly, it sent a jolt of pain through him. After having experienced it about five times every year, namely each solar eclipse, he had learned the best thing was to just wait for patiently for his body to recover, even though it would take at least a week till he'd be completely well again. Though in truth, it had almost nothing to do with Lord Exoda, _per se_, it wa still definately related to the solar eclipses and some of the magic of Shina Dark that had been in him for the longest time. However, the pain was definately at its worst everytime Lord Exoda 'revived to plague the world', as popular folklore goes. Still, it was in his view that it was always easier to pin quite a lot of things on the guy on top. "Each time that idiot comes back to life, I _die_."

"Still, you shouldn't be up now, ne Gramps?" asked Sabrina playfully, dodging a smack on the back of her head in the process. Chris sighed. Usually, he would have managed to have given her a light knock on the head, a 'wake-up call', without any trouble, but he was far from up to shape that morning. Neither was he that old either, which is exactly why people always called him by his nickname. They always said he made a very cute, in truth annoyed, face when people called him this, hence the nickname's popularity with his friends. Sabrina was the only one who could get away with it without receiving his annoyed look, since she was his older sister, and since it was her term of endearment. She always acted like she was younger than him though.

Breakfast consisted of scrambled eggs and lightly fried bacon for Sabrina, and another mug of tea for him. This he saw as distinctly unfair and he huffed about it during the duration of breakfast. He loved eggs and bacon on a sunny morning, especially the way Sabrina cooked it, and he was supremely grumpy that she was tormenting him in this way. He stuck out his tongue at her when she was halfway through, eliciting a smile from her.

"Chris is so silly," she giggled as she slowly forked another piece of bacon into her mouth. This time she took her time, slowly chewing and savouring the taste in front of him, before licking her fork once more. Then she took another piece of bacon and did the same again. The seconds slowly passed, as he watched her eat, his eyes fixed on the fork. She could see in his eyes how he longed and hungered for the bacon, and it make her laugh inside when she could see his mouth watering. He really was so cute to watch.

"Yummy!" said Sabrina as she finally finished, putting her fork and knife on her plate and bringing it to the sink to wash. He said nothing, but stared at where the plate had been, lost in his thoughts. The clatter of cutlery and running water soon stopped as she finished, placing the wet crockery onto a drying rack. She walked back towards him and mussed his hair affectionately. The only response she received was the rumbling of his stomach. She covered her mouth with her other hand to stifle a giggle. She patted him lightly on the head and, getting no response, leaned down and blew in his ear.

He straightened up suddenly, shuddering, before turning around to look at her. He tried to knock her on the head again, but the sudden movement made him wince in pain. The expression on her face softened as she wrapped her arms around him, holding him in a gentle, tender embrace. He closed his eyes and just concentrated on her warmth, feeling himself sinking slowly into it. All the aches and pains from the previous night seemed to have disappeared from his body, as though it no longer mattered or existed at all. They stayed like that for a long while, one comforting the other, the other feeling stronger because of it, listening to each other's breathing. Suddenly, the town's clock tower rang, the bells being struck ten times. Sabrina let go and looked out of the window, before heading for the door.

"I'm heading of to work now, Gramps, so you take care of yourself," she chided him, giving him a wink. He stuck his tongue out at her, as she blew him a kiss before exiting the house. She worked in a small bistro fifteen minutes walk away, meaning that she never needed to leave early. He sighed as when she left, wishing to feel her tender embrace once more. She had always been both a sister and a mother to him, and it always upset him slightly when she let go. It was like being a warm bed. Once you get in, you don't want to get up again.

Chris looked out the window. The island of Shina Dark was comfortingly sunlit, the sky being a beautiful shade of powder blue, several large clouds wandering slowly and unhurriedly across it. A light breeze made the leaves of the trees sway slightly and the birds, specks of colour swiftly traversing the endless blue. How beautiful, he mused, as he watched the tranquillity of it all. Peaceful, quiet and everlastingly beautiful, it was absurd to assume that this was the island of Satan. He stretched, feeling his morning sleepiness slip off him. He had promised to take care of himself, so that meant no tinkering in his workroom today. He would take a walk instead, and perhaps visit Lord Exoda Cero Crown, otherwise known as Satan, and the Demon Lord of Shina Dark, or even Maou-sama by those who thought his other titles were too long. Utter nonsense it all was, him being the 'Evil Destroyer of the World' and all that.

The first thing he wanted to talk to Lord Exoda about was the matter of payment. His father had been the tinker of Dianos, the capital of Shina Dark, and also, because of it, the fourth in the chain of command on the island, under Exoda, Master Vincent, his vampire-looking butler, and Mistress Noel, his rather nice, if fussy, maid, it was his profession to build virtually all the machinery and clever devices that worked around the town, from the magical clock tower of the town, to the many traps and contraptions of the underground labyrinth of Arcadia Castle, the palace of Lord Exoda.

However, in all his years working for the city, he was paid virtually nothing for any of it. Now, since his father had died not too long ago, the mantle of tinker had been passed on to him, which is why he was going to have a long discussion with Exoda about the money his father was owed, and this matter of eclipses and his rebirth. He always died in particularly painful ways each time Exoda was reborn, and he was quite tired of it. He was going to settle things this time, and he was going to make sure everything would be done by the end of today. However, before he was going to do any of that, he was going to go on a walk.

It was lovely and warm under the bright sun, and Chris walked slowly, at a comfortable pace. As he passed, he greeted the various inhabitants he knew, some by name, others merely by a wave of the hand. In return he received various happy greetings in return, several calls of 'Grampa!' by the kids who knew him, and some comments to the effect of "O, what a nice looking boy!" from the less knowledgeable or older inhabitants. This last was mostly a result of how he looked. He could be said to be baby-faced, making him look like a young kid rather than the being in the very, very late teens, almost twenty-one in fact, he actually was. The way he spoke also made people think it due to how polite he was. He merely greeted them respectfully and headed on his way. Today, he decided to go to the bakery first, the smell of warm, baking bread pervading the street nearby, drawing him towards it like a bee to honey.

"Good Morning, Christopher. What kind of bread would you like today?" asked Janet. She owned the bakery and was one of the few people who knew him well enough to call him that and he always allowed her to, mostly because he worried that if he didn't, she'd give him hard bread. Being a little bit of a picky eater and a connoisseur, bad bread to him would be as torturous as watching Sabrina eating her delicious eggs and bacon in front of him without letting him have any. In answer to her question, he smiled and asked her politely, "Do you have anything soft today, Janet?"

She smiled back and turned around, looking at the huge selection of bread she had baked early that morning. She chose several of the softest, hottest pieces of bread, from a loaf of soft, sweet bread, two brioches, a hot-cross bun, a croissant and a tiny, but delicious looking sausage roll, and deposited them in a tiny basket, which he had brought with him from home, he proffered to her. She watched him as he placed eight rion on the counter before her. She looked at him for another moment before taking the coins and placing them in a mechanical cash register. He was about to bid her farewell when she said, "Are you alright? You look very pale this morning."

"I'm perfectly alright!" he had been gaping at her for a minute, before he regained his composure and, answered. His voice was cheerful and his demeanour reassured her. He didn't want to lie to her, but it was better people didn't know what he had to go through. If people knew, they'd worry, and he didn't like it when people worried, especially about something as trivial as himself. He blushed, when she reached over the counter, giving him a small, but reassuring pat on the head, and he blurted out another thing that was on his mind, "And I think your dress really suits you today too, Janet."

She blushed as well, and after bidding her farewell, he left, the basket swinging in one hand, the other holding a brioche, which was slowly disappearing as he took bite after bite as he walked. He ended up on the pier, sitting on his favourite spot, his legs dangling over the edge, looking at the azure ocean, the white tipped waves gently washing the harbour walls, as gulls flew over head, dipping and diving, swerving and soaring above the bright blue of the sea. One of the gulls landed next to him, a fish in its mouth. He looked at it, his mouth filled with bread. It stared back, the fish slowly being gulped down. He swallowed. It swallowed. He stuck his tongue out at it. It flew away and he grinned mischievously. He never really liked the gulls, and the gulls certainly never liked him. This could have always been because neither he, nor his sister, was human.

Almost none of the people who lived on Shina Dark could be called truly normal human beings, most being half-this or that or having very odd parentage or abilities. For example, he was absolutely certain that Vincent had some vampire blood in him, while Noel's ears definitely said something along the lines of elf. Most people from outside wouldn't have been able to tell who was what, but that was mostly from both inexperience, magic having disappeared from everyday life to flourish in places humans had yet to colonise, and because most people on Shina Dark tended to hide what they were. It was just more convenient that way, if everyone kept to a standard, making it easier to interact with each other and with the outside world. Most people also had a reason to hide, Shina Dark being an island of outcasts for that very reason.

Everyone on the island was an outcast, whether a victim of circumstances, like a refugee from a war-torn or oppressive country, a natural anomaly, such as being odd-looking or unusual for their race, or even because the world had no need of them any more, magic, fantasy, chivalry and legends giving way to the machinations of technology and reason, and had found sanctuary on this island with other such individuals. One other thing about the people on the island was that everyone, save those who had decent, humanly pronounceable names, gave themselves their own moniker, on that was either similar to their real names, or one that they like, such as Sabrina's name. One of the less extreme examples was Vincent's name. Since vampires tended to have incredibly long names, including dozens of middle names and first names, he was just called Vincent by everybody else simply because it was easier. Others had vastly different names due to the linguistic difficulty of pronouncing them, such as his and Sabrina's long-nosed, hawk-eyed neighbour, Mr. Peach, whose real name consisted of high-pitched shrieks, screeches and squawks due to his badly hidden, harpy nature.

Nonetheless, here everyone was more or less equal, no matter where they came from. Janet herself was a refugee from Gringea, which had been conquered by the Empire of Vansable half a dozen years or so ago, according to Janet herself. She also looked the part of someone from Gringea, which is why he always believed her, no matter the fact that she did like to exaggerate sometimes, her dark brown eyes and long, silky black hair and pale skin almost stereotypical of the Gringean beauty, she was, not to mention shapely, well proportioned, and really stunning gorgeous when she was wearing that mildly short skirt the other day…

Chris shook his head vigorously, blushing, trying to clear his mind of where his current line of though might have led him. What his sister would have done if she had known what he was thinking he had no idea. Most likely bashed his brains in, he supposed. He looked hurriedly about, praying his sister was nowhere in the vicinity. She did have a habit of popping up at the most awkward of moments. He felt his cheeks, noticing that they still were quite warm. He hoped no one noticed. People said that he always had an eye for beauty, whether in art, in music, or people, especially people, and if he could permit himself to be boastful, he'd have said the same as well. As it was, he always blushed when people said it. Janet was a beauty, yes, but most young ladies on the island tended to be quite pretty as well, making it sometimes difficult for him not to say anything. Still, beauty was a thing to be appreciated, and if he was one of the few people who could see it, even in its vaguest forms, then he wasn't going to complain.

As he was clearing his mind of any possible, what could be termed as, impure thoughts, a small fleet of several ships had appeared on the horizon. From what he could see, which wasn't very much at the moment due to the distance, there seemed to be at least five ships, each with a different shape, all heading for the island. With the calm sea and slight breeze, it would still take them at least two hours to reach the port. Still, ships weren't the most common thing to see in the port, and he wondered what they were here for. Trade was unlikely, as few people would want to even look at Shina Dark, much less trade with the inhabitants of the island, mostly due to all the rubbish people were making up about Lord Exoda. The only other possibility was perhaps an invasion force, he thought as he munched on another piece of bread.

Suddenly, the cogs in his brain processed that last thought properly, and he gasped, almost dropping his still hot hot-cross bun. All other thoughts forgotten, he got up, and, dumping the bun back into the small basket, grabbing the basket's handle, dashed towards Arcadia Castle at breakneck speed, a frantic look on his face. Each step he took was painful in itself, his body still yet to be fully recovered, and he breathed heavily as step after step sent a sharp jolt of pain through him. Various men, women and children parted or moved aside as he ran, some of whom noting the look on his face and beginning to get scared themselves. He was usually the last person they'd imagine in a panic, so it unsettled them to see him in such a state. Still, no one else had noticed that ships were approaching, the sheer rarity of such an event making them inattentive and unaware.

Finally, he had reached the castle, letting himself in, the main door being unlocked as usual. It was comfortably cool inside this palace his father had designed for Lord Exoda, the large windows letting in swaths of light. He stopped for a moment, swallowing hard as a surge of pain unbalanced him for a moment, a burning sensation at the back of his throat. He coughed, and specks of blood peppered the hand he brought up to cover his mouth. He paid no attention to it. He knew the layout of the palace quite well though, mostly from memory as he had been in the palace quite often when he was a boy, and also because he had memorised the floor plans his father had kept. He dashed up to the first floor, and ran down a corridor, then turning left at an intersection, before hammering on the door at the end.

* * *

I'm sorry that I haven't been updating on any of my other stories, so if anyone who's read my other stories is reading this, please accept my humblest apologies. Since the summer holidays are now in full swing, with most loose ends cleared up, I'll be able to update all my stories. Until then, please be patient, and review! I'll be waiting!


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